


Welcome to the Family

by schaadenfreude



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 03:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11152947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schaadenfreude/pseuds/schaadenfreude
Summary: an AU. Gladio is a pit fighter being recruited as a bodyguard for the mafia don Caelums. idk either. rated T for Gladio's potty mouth.





	Welcome to the Family

Gladio had to give it to the pit bosses: they somehow managed to keep finding guys big enough to put up a real fight. Most of them were drunker than he was, but so jacked on the cocktail of uppers Gladio consistently refused to take that they still hit like trucks.

This guy was probably a pound or three heavier than Gladio, but not as tall, and clumsy. He also fought like he’d learned on the streets – quick and dirty with no rhyme or reason to his strikes. Just pummel until someone falls over. The unpredictability (exaggerated by how drugged up the fucker was) made this bruiser a handful, but it was nothing Gladio couldn’t deal with.

This guy kept his guard high, all focused on the upper body. Gladio barely ducked a hook that would have left him seeing stars and twisted to slam his booted foot into the bruiser’s solar plexus. The guy doubled over and Gladio brought a hammerfist down on the vulnerable back of the guy’s head. He went down like the Hindenburg.

The ref jumped in and the crowd’s raucous roar went up a few more decibels. There was no way that guy wasn’t out for the count, so Gladio didn’t wait for the referee’s call before he turned to the crowd, throwing his fists in the air triumphantly. They bellowed even louder. By now, Gladio was such a pit favorite that there weren’t many people booing.

Why one person in particular caught Gladio’s eye, he didn’t know. It wasn’t like this stranger was notable. Sandy brown hair, glasses, and as sour a mien as any stick-up-ass accountant. Maybe it was just the way the stranger was staring. Not cheering, not moving at all. Just watching. It was uncanny. The man apparently noticed Gladio’s attention even through the chaos, because he nodded once, sharply. Like a bird pecking at a scrap of food. Then the stranger melted away into the crowd. This wasn’t the first time; in fact, it this was the third or fourth fight in a row where he’d noticed the stranger around. But the man always vanished once he knew Gladio had seen him.

But then the referee was declaring Gladio’s already-obvious victory, so it didn’t matter. The regulars were probably gonna buy Gladio a round of beer at the bar, but only after he picked up his cut of the cash from the night’s bets. Apparently, even though Gladio was the pit’s favorite fighter, people still bet against him.

The fact that he was practically undefeated, and the darling of the crowd, was beginning to make Gladio nervous. People already did a lot of betting on him. It was only a matter of time before the pit bosses set him up against somebody who would clean his clock, and then they’d rake in winnings from all the people who had bet on him. Then they’d toss him out like the rest of the trash, and he’d be back to square one. Again.

When, a short while later, Gladio emerged from the rundown motel that acted as a front for the pit, the stranger from the crowd was waiting. Up close, Gladio noticed that he was the lankiest son of a bitch Gladio’d ever seen. Pretty tall, too, though not a match for Gladio. The man stood close to the wall, though he did not lean, and studied the way the sodium-orange glow of the streetlamps illuminated the fog that crawled through the streets.

It had been obvious to Gladio from the get-go that this guy had been trying to get Gladio’s attention. And to be frank, Gladio was tired of playing hide-and-seek with this creep. So he strode right up to the man and growled, “What the hell are you after?”

“My name is Ignis Scientia. I would say that it’s a pleasure to meet you, but given my doubts about your desire to _be_ pleasant, I will omit that statement for now.” The stranger’s voice was surprising; not just for the accent, but for the sonorous drawl. Like if velvet was a sound. “I’ve an offer of employment for you, Mr. Amicitia, if you are willing to hear me out.”

In a few sentences, this Scientia guy established a few important things. One of which was that he knew Gladio’s name. The other was that he was a smug motherfucker whose pretty face Gladio kind of wanted to cave in. Gladio crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “My _willingness_ to hear out your offer gets shorter and shorter the more you talk, so make it quick.”

A faint smirk tugged at Scientia’s mouth. “My employer is in need of a bodyguard. It will pay you far better than the scraps these fools toss you, as well as offer protection.” He gestured with a tilt of his head at the motel, indicating the fighting pit therein, and its operators.

Gladio’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “’Protection’ from who?”

“Partially from your current employers, who will undoubtedly take offense to your departure before they can set you up to be beaten into a bloody pulp. But part of that protection is not for you.” Scientia searched through the inner pocket of his coat for a moment and withdrew a pack of cigarettes. It was still in the wrapping.

While Scientia shredded the plastic and opened the pack, Gladio rumbled, “Then who the fuck do you think it’s for?” He didn’t like Scientia’s attitude, acting like he knew everything already. Granted, Gladio had come to the very same conclusion about the pit bosses’ plan, so it couldn’t have been a big leap. Probably just standard procedure. But still.

Scientia lit a cigarette, then offered the pack to Gladio. It took a moment, but he reluctantly took one and the lighter that was offered in the same hand as the pack. He passed both back after lighting one for himself. Finally, after Scientia had returned the pack and lighter to his coat pocket, he answered Gladio’s question. “You know who I mean, Mr. Amicitia. Your sister. She’s about to turn fifteen, isn’t she? No doubt whichever of Izunia’s mouthpieces recruited you did a lot of heavy-handed threatening in that direction.”

Nope, Gladio liked it even less that this guy actually _did_ know as much as he acted like he knew. Or at least could make some damn good guesses. Gladio muttered a string of curses with the smoke he exhaled. With less aggression but more sullen anger, Gladio asked, “Who would I be workin’ for if I took your offer? Who’s your boss?”

“I’ve been told that you’ve met him. Your father worked closely with him for many years.” Smoke streamed from Scientia’s mouth with the words.

Gladio narrowed his eyes. “Regis Caelum, huh? After the way he treated my dad, what the hell makes him think I wanna work for him?”

“Do you have many other options?” Scientia raised an eyebrow at Gladio while he puffed on the cigarette.

Gladio remembered his own cigarette and took a long drag. What were these, anyway, Nat Shermans? Fuck, this prick had expensive taste in cigarettes. Something occurred to Gladio in that moment, so he returned the expression. “Does _he?_ Seems t’me like the Amicitias would be on the bottom of his go-to list.”

“Clarus Amicitia’s son, who shows every sign of not having fallen far from the tree, is near the _top_ of his go-to list. A bad parting with the father does not preclude a good relationship with the son. I am given to understand that Regis respects your father’s memory enough that he wishes to ensure his old friend’s children are not left to the whims of fate.”

“Uh huh,” Gladio grunted, unconvinced.

Scientia shrugged, took one more drag of his cigarette, then dropped the butt on the ground. As he ground the cherry out under the heel of his shiny dress shoes, he said, “Believe, or don’t, as you please. I will give you a few days to think about my offer, and find you again.” Hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, Scientia strode off into the fog.

Gladio puffed on the last of his cigarette thoughtfully.

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea where this came from, or where it's going. it just popped into my head on the way to work the other day and hasn't left me alone. could use some serious work tho.
> 
> (sorry not sorry for the cheap song reference in the title; i couldn't think of anything better.)


End file.
